Of demons and consulting detectives
by silver colour
Summary: John Watson, a member of the resistance, is captured by the government. Sherlock Holmes owes his brother a favour that is about to be called in.
1. Chapter 1

Mycroft Holmes looked through the glass at the unconscious man in the cell.

The man had come from overseas. He was a member on the ongoing rebellion in America, hoping to defeat the magicians on their own ground. A hopeless cause, of course, as the government's hold was far stronger in England than it was in the colonies at the moment. The man must have known this too. And yet... And yet, here he was, fighting –or rather, imprisoned- for his lost cause. It was something Mycroft Holmes might have admired, had it not been so irrational an idea.

And not only was the man fighting for this hopeless cause, he had been caught over something ridiculously unimportant as well. A robbery of a shop selling herbs and incense used for summoning. Not that any magician would ever think this unimportant. No, they would think it was some kind of personal offense against them, which was why _he_ was now here, forced to deal with a minor incident that any idiot could have taken care of.

Honestly, all they needed to do was to wait for the man to wake up, so that they could convict the man. He didn't even need to confess, as there had been more than enough witnesses, both human and otherwise.

If the man had been anywhere near as clever as he was, Mycroft might have suspected a plan of some kind. As the man was considered to be a soldier, a man of action, he had no such concerns. He had long since learned not to underestimate exactly _how_ stupid people -both commoners and magicians- could be.

But still, the rebellion had never been _this_ idiotic. Robbing a shop for magicians in broad daylight, in front of witnesses? No one would be that stupid, or that reckless. Especially not the Resistance, which had far too much to lose from such actions. So why do it? Last he heard the Resistance was not that desperate.

He would simply have to wait to ask the man. Not for a confession, because his guilt had already been established. He wanted to question the man, gather more information. But above all Mycroft wanted to ask him _why_ he had done this, because his actions made no sense whatsoever, and that was one of the few things Mycroft Holmes hated more than anything else.

As Mycroft pondered these things and waited for the man to wake up, his "employer", Anthea, entered the room, carrying several manila folders with all the information they had about the man. For all the world she was his boss, when it was actually the other way around. After all, she was the magician, he was _only_ a commoner. No one would believe that a magician would ever play secretary to a commoner, and this disbelief suited him just fine. It made him invisible, gave him the freedom he needed to do his job.

#

Mycroft did not have to wait long for the man to wake up, disoriented and with a bad headache, judging by the bruise on his left temple.

After the man had looked around in his cell for a while, he spend some time standing in front of the glass –mirrored on his side- seemingly staring straight at Mycroft. After that he lay back down on the bed and closed his eyes, although whether he was waiting or tying to sleep Mycroft was not entirely sure(a rare and somewhat strange thing for him).

It was then that Mycroft finally moved away from the mirror. He looked through the manila folders once. He then nodded to Anthea, who put away the scrying glass she had been using to communicate with her servants and stood to follow him. The folders they left in the room, having no need for them during the interrogation that was about to follow.

These folders told the entire story of the man's life, from his birth in England, his work for the rebellion overseas, to the robbery that had ended with the man in the next room, about to be interrogated.

These folders also told that the man's name was John Watson, a more than competent doctor, formerly a captain in England's army, until he had been wounded in battle and taken as a prisoner by the American rebels.

There were, however, some things the folders could not have told you. They could not have explained why former Captain John Watson, M.D., had decided to join the rebels, or why he would attack a target as unimportant as the shop.

Certainly Dr Watson, as a soldier, would have known that this attack was pointless, almost a suicide mission. So why would anyone do something every child could tell you was a horribly bad idea? A man like John Watson would only do such a thing for a very good reason or as an act of desperation. And a single look could have told you that the man resting –waiting?- on his bed inside the cell was anything but desperate.

This was the reason that had left Mycroft Holmes feeling confused, although he was, in a way, right. There was indeed a plan. However, there was something Mycroft Holmes had been wrong about: John Watson was not stupid.

John Watson _was_ doing this for a very good reason. He had not been caught by accident, but because he had chosen to, had wanted to get caught.

Not out of desperation, definitely not. Because of a plan.

Although he didn't know it yet, Mycroft Holmes had every reason to feel uneasy. Because while getting caught was indeed a part of the plan, John Watson himself was not a part of this plan. Getting caught was not the goal, nor a means to get inside the parliamentary buildings -even as a prisoner.

John Watson, as well as the attack on the small shop, was only a diversion.

##

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize from the Bartimaeus' books belongs to Jonathan Stroud, Sherlock belongs to the BBC and Sherlock Holmes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Author's note: This does not really take place during any of the books of the Bartimaeus Trilogy, merely in a similar world, though you may see some of the politicians or demons from the books. Bartimaeus will probably show up at some point(I just like him to much not to), but Nathaniel may not.

The rebellion in America is turning into a war at this point, and the 'Resistance' is an actual (underground) organisation, instead of the small group it turned out to be in 'Golem's eye'. I hope this explains the situation so far, but if you still have any questions feel free to PM me.

Also, if you see any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors please let me know(I know how annoying they can be), and I will fix them ASAP

Reviews are very much appreciated, because I would absolutely love to know what you guys think of this story!


	2. Chapter 2

As Mycroft Holmes stepped into the corridor he realized what had seemed so wrong about the situation. Three masked men, one of them carrying a rucksack, were approaching them through the corridor, intent on freeing Captain Watson.

This was not very surprising. He had been expecting the rebellion to try something and had even expected them to arrive sooner than this. What was surprising, though, was the fact that there were only three of them, and they did not have the uneasy way of people who have just lost one of their fellow… well, 'soldiers' was not the right word for them, they were clearly not trained to fight. They were far too few for them to have come to spring one of their own from prison.

This was what made Mycroft realize his mistake. Neither captain Watson nor the rebellion(or at least their leader) was stupid. It became clear to him that Watson had allowed himself to be caught on purpose, and if these three were here then the main group-… No, surely they wouldn't. Or, if they did, then perhaps they really were as dumb as he suspected at first.

Mycroft slammed the door closed behind him, making sure Anthea would not be seen or harmed by the approaching men. They would not take kindly to seeing one of England's most important magicians here, about to interview one of their people.

He then turned around to address the fourth member of the group, who had been trying to sneak up on him.

"I had at least expected something _slightly_ more intelligent than this, even from the rebellion."

"Oh, don't worry, traitor, were not the only ones from the _Resistance_ in the building,"* the man spoke, smile audible despite his mask.

Mycroft almost had to suppress a sigh at that, you didn't have to be a Holmes to figure that out. "I am well aware of that. Obviously others are attempting to enter the vaults and take the treasures that belong to this government. I must congratulate you though, you were quite clever to choose to free Captain Watson instead of joining those going to the vaults. You at least have a chance to survive this night."

"Why, you disgusting-," the man tried to tackle Mycroft to the floor, but was stopped by one of his friends.

"Steve, what the bloody- OW", "No names, you idiot!", hissed the man who was apparently called Steve at his friend as he hit him in the shoulder.

A third man stepped in. "It's safer if you continue this little domestic while this traitor can't hear you, wouldn't you agree?" he said as he hit Mycroft's ears simultaneously.

#

The man sunk to the floor, unconscious.

"Now, let's just do what we came here for and get the hell out of here before we encounter an actual magician, instead of one of their lackeys," the third man spoke.

The others nodded silently and Steve moved to the door, taking a crowbar from his pack and wringing the door open with it.

"Hello, lazybones," the third man said while taking of another mask from his pocket and handing it to him. "Holiday's over Watson, we're taking you home."

"Took you long enough Seb," John grinned and pulled the mask over his face.

#

The first group, the group trying to reach the vaults, had started out with twelve people. They had left one guard on each of the landings of the stairs leading down the entrance room, leaving them with nine. They had left two in the entrance room itself, a huge marble hall with a single desk in it, to guard the clerk that had been working at his desk there and to warn them if danger approached. Then there had been seven, five men and two women, left to continue through the stone passage to the vaults.

All had agreed that it had been ridiculously, suspiciously simple so far, even entering the parliament building itself had been easy. All it had taken was a few silver knives and people with strong magical resistance and the few imps outside and even the two great demons in the hall had been killed.

If things had not been that easy until then, they might have paid more attention to the line of red tiles in the corridor. As it was, it had only taken a short debate and someone with the ability to see magical auras for the group to assume it was only a weak spell, something they could defend themselves against.

It turned out that beyond the red tiles was a spell that attacked anyone carrying magical items. This meant that four of the seven were attacked by the pale shadows that seeped from the stone walls as the first magical item passed the line.

They immediately found out that while the shadows looked faint, they were very strong. And not only did they attack with magic, but they also attacked them with claws and teeth and even though all seven also had silver weapons it did not seem to affect the shades as much as it would any other demon.

One of the four managed to set of his Elemental sphere, but in the small stone corridor and with his enemies close by he had nowhere to throw it and killed himself and the woman who had been trying to get him away from the deadly shades. Meanwhile the shades only seemed to blow away for a moment, as though a sudden gust of wind had passed through the corridor, before gathering again on the other three.

In the end, only three of the seven reached the steel door at the end of the corridor. Two who had not been carrying magical items and one who had and who now had to be supported, unable to walk or stand on his own.

The steel door did not contain any traps and when they entered the room they saw the treasures they had come for collected on a plinth in the middle of an enormous room. Beautiful jewels made out of gold, platinum and bronze, studded with gems or inlaid with amazing mosaics. Ancient looking weapons, some plain, some even more decorated than some of the jewels. There were swords, longbows, crossbows, ceremonial knives and even something that looked like an ancient kitchen knife. There were several more of such items, strange through their normality. A wardrobe, a suitcase and a sunhat with decaying flowers on it.

It was only after gaping at the treasures(and the strange not-treasures) that they noticed the floor tiles. A wide ring of tiles around the plinth was covered with a sickly olive-green shine.

Unfortunately, the group had no one left who could see magical auras. One had been lost in the corridor and another was standing guard on the first landing leading down to the vaults. Had this not been the case the two left standing might have been more cautious. As it was they argued for a while about who would get the honour of taking the treasures and who had the strongest resistance against the curse that had obviously been placed on the floor tiles.

In the end they decided that the woman would go first and only if it turned out to be safe would the man join her at the plinth.

The woman stepped back a few paces and ran to plinth as fast as she could. She made it perhaps halfway across the ring of tiles before collapsing to the floor, surrounded by noxious green vapours.

The man would have tried to reach her, to maybe drag her of the tiles, if the third member of their group had not called him back right then. He needed someone to carry him out, to help him escape, he said, because if the man died on the tiles as well, then he would never get out on his own.

But the other man argued that they couldn't go back now, that they would never get a chance like this and that they had to continue with the mission, if for no other reason that for the memory of the friends they had lost this night. As he said this, the man too took a few paces back and ran to the edge of the tiles. On the edge he jumped as far as he could, almost reaching the places the woman had fallen, and ran on.

However, there was a good reason the woman had tried first. Her resistance against magic _had _been stronger than the man's. So the man made it to barely three quarters of the ring before he too collapsed, attack by the sickly vapours.

#

This was how, when the magicians finally arrived at the vault they found a weakened man, apparently unable to walk, crawling across the room to the ring of tiles where the skeletons of his friends lay.

##

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize from the Bartimaeus' books belongs to Jonathan Stroud, Sherlock belongs to the BBC and Sherlock Holmes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

* They know Mycroft is a commoner(and therefore a traitor), because any magician would immediately have summoned at least one spirit to defend themselves. Also, only the government speaks of the rebellion, to those fighting in it it's called the Resistance.

Author's note: First of all I want to apologize to everyone who reads this story for taking so long to update(especially to canadalchemist, to whom I said that I would update before now),but unfortunately real life happened…

Then: a HUGE thank you to everyone who followed or favorited this story and to yukinflake and canadalchemist for reviewing!

This story is unbeta'ed so if you see any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors please let me know and I will fix them ASAP.

Please review, I absolutely love hearing what you think of it!


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